Shots in the night.
No, not the usual kind, the ones that come from a .38. I’m talkin’ the other kind: straight shots of J.D.
There I sat, in the best place in the city to wet your beak. My usual stool was the last one, at the far end of the stick. Bill, the ‘tender, stood nearby, leaning over a copy of the local paper, working at his favorite pastime: crossword puzzles.
“A nine letter pulp mystery writer,” he said. “Last four are K-A-N-E,” he added in that gruff voice I’ve come to know quite well as I work hard to keep him in business.
I emptied my glass. “Henry Kane,” I said with satisfaction. “One of the best pulp mystery writers to ever walk this misbegotten world.”
Bill grabbed the bottle of J.D. off the back shelf. Poured me another. “Yeah?” he said as he put my new friend down near my left hand.
A crooked smile played across Bill’s face. “Nice titles.”
“Ol’ Hank at his best,” I said as I threw back the J.D. “Peter Chambers was the prototypical gumshoe: Hard as nails. Hip and urbane. A sword of justice in a crooked world. Would go to the mat to protect the innocent.”
“Well,” Bill said, retrieving the quickly emptying bottle of Jack. “Sounds like a real man’s man, or whatever the hell my first wife said I never was.” Poured me another.
“Sure,” I replied, “and Henry Kane did it with panache, too. His dialog is whip-smart. Rapid fire. Gives the story a speed you don’t see anymore, and that’s a shame, man.” I threw back the shot. Seemed the temperature in the bar increased as the liquor hit. “Here, hand me your quill and a bar nap.” He did this, and I wrote down a web address for him. “This leads to an article by a legendary crime writer named Lawrence Block.” I wrote down Mulholland Books' address on the napkin and handed it back to him. “Block recounts some fun stories about Henry. A great article, man. Henry Kane musta been a real character. No writer wrote better against a hangover, from the sound of it. Give it a shot.”
Bill looked at the address. Nodded. “I will. Thanks, buddy.”
“Oh, and don’t forget to check out his other great detective. An ex-cop named McGregor. Written later on in Kane’s career. Different from Chambers. Liked to use his head more than his hands, if you get me. You would do yourself a disservice if you didn’t read The Midnight Man.
Bill nodded again as he went back to his crossword, like I was already forgotten. I sat there for awhile, ready to get back upstairs to my place. Finally hopped off the stool, wondering why the floor seemed unsure of its being a flat surface, when Bill yelled at me, “Hey, wise guy.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re wrong. It’s not Henry Kane. Henry won’t fit, Mr.-Know-It-All.”
I shrugged. “Then it’s Frank Kane. The other Kane. No relation.”
A sigh escaped Bill’s lips. “Another pulp writer?”
“Trigger Mortis,” Bill laughed under his voice. “Nice.”
“The books that good, kid?”
I put my hand to my heart. “I swear on the graves of my unknown children, I tell the truth. I’ve modeled my entire life on Johnny Liddell.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, really. Johnny was the sort that figured either the bad guy was going to go to the hospital, or the both of them were going to go, but no damn way was Johnny going to go by himself.” I paid for my last shot, slid off the stool. “Like I said, Trigger Mortis, the one I’m reading now, is a great way to get into the Liddell world. Follow that up with Dead Rite, and you can’t go wrong.”
Bill put the name F-R-A-N-K into his crossword. Smiled. “Done! Nice work, kid. Thanks!”
Images via Psycho-Gourmet blog, Pulp Covers tumblr, and itsUncleJim's flickr.
Robert Lewis grew up under the pier at Venice Beach, CA. There, by firelight, he would entertain the stray dogs with weird and wonderful tales. He’s still telling stories, but now he lives in a place with walls, a roof, and cases of red wine. Crime fiction and blues guitar are his things. He blogs over at NeedleCity, and twits sporadically and nonsensically as @robertklewis.
I haven’t even heard of these writers! Gotta add them to the list. Haven’t read a good noir in ages, actually, so this is incentive to hunt them down. Thanks!
What great cover art! Makes me want to go out and hunt down every one of those titles. Thanks for the pointers! Is it too early for a martini?
Thank you! MF: you won’t be disappointed, trust me!
M.Vail: Thanks! And no, it’s NEVER too early for a martini. It’s always happy hour somewhere!
…I want a martini.
Clever! 3-D writing at it’s best.
I want the book covers as posters for my office.
Excellent post! I’m adding these titles to the top of my “to read” pile. And totally agree with RS– the covers are fantastic.
MF: shaken, or stirred? Vodka, or gin?
RS and CT: Thank you, VERY much. Glad you approve.:-)!
I [b]LOVE [/b]those covers, too. I would paper my office with them, if I could.
The color palettes on some of these covers are so unique–both bright and muted at the same time, like recalling the memory of a favorite childhood food. Now, I’m both hungry [u]and[/u] thirsty. Great post, Robert!
Thank you, C.Z.! Very appreciated!
DRINKS ALL AROUND!
Robert, this is awesome! Can’t wait to read part 2!
Hey you! Thanks, B! Hope you enjoy the next installment. 🙂
I think I’ve been in that bar, nice n gritty. Great setup, I can’t wait to visit tomorrow!
………great gams now that’s a nice oldie……..slam’n two more JD’s and I just fine and the gans will sweeter……… Great work Mr.
Thanks SJ and Da’Klub!
Those Kanes were not pulp authors. They wrote paperback originals. Guys like Walter Gibson and Lester Dent wrote a real pulp novel a month (if not more)!
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